


Enkidu Didn't Die

by solarpillar (solarwind)



Series: Enkidu didn't die [1]
Category: The Epic of Gilgamesh
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 22:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarwind/pseuds/solarpillar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say that Enkidu didn’t die. No, not really. He was mud, not a man or god, and not even an animal, though he was shaped like a man with qualities of a beast and a demigod. And mud doesn’t die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enkidu Didn't Die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Azalee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azalee/gifts).



> AU, if Enkidu has no soul to go down to Irkalla.

They say that Enkidu didn't die. No, not really. He was mud, not a man or god, and not even an animal, though he was shaped like a man with qualities of a beast and a demigod. And mud doesn't die. Mud changes shape, changes humidity, changes texture and becomes inert. Mud may have life, but soul? It is a punishment that such simple thing did not deserve, traitor or not, blasphemer or not, killer of the divine or not. It is a punishment only fit for mankind, for their arrogance and whimsicalness, for their weakness that left them in servitude to the gods and for their endless hope that did not let them wither and perish. A soul is a punishment, so that even in death they will eat dust, for they cannot accept immediate oblivion after the harshness of life. A thousand years in dust is tamer fate than oblivion, it appears. A foolish idea that gods cannot understand.

Gilgamesh isn't all god. Therefore, he possesses the endless hope of mankind, the disease that spares them from oblivion and condemns them to worse. But such hope was what made him seize the elixir of life, and doubt was the weakness that gave opportunity to the thief.

Perhaps it was for the best for Gilgamesh, he who had hope of seeing Enkidu in death, how faint that hope was. How strong the fear of death was. Such fear let him walk a path that would let him never see Enkidu again. Not like the other path would let him, of course. So it's all for naught, all for naught.

All for naught, as he stands in the hall of Irkalla, and asks, "Where is Enkidu, my beloved companion, my best companion, my only companion?" 

The truth is learned, and the pile of crowns kicked down so harshly that sparks flied and metal bent and melted, a rare sight of light and the loudest noise since Inanna's scream at her entrapment. The crowns flied through the rotting deads, blasted them prematurely into shapeless dust. Such was the rage of the new judge of Irkalla, such was the fury of a man torn from his fate, albeit by his own foolishness.

In his new throne of stone the great Gilgamesh wept. No sound was heard, and no water came out. Only the silence of dust flowing endlessly down, further down, onto the blurred faces of fading souls below.

And whenever Inanna's lover comes down with the scent of soil above, Gilgamesh has to retrain himself to not murder the lad.

The soil smelled so much like the soil Enkidu walked once walked on, once fought on, once made love on.


End file.
